The Buddy System
by MidnightDawn999
Summary: With Camelot under siege, Arthur sends Merlin and Mordred to take a message asking for aid from an allied kingdom. When the two are taken prisoner and thrown into an unknown fate, Camelot is left to fend for itself - as are Merlin and Mordred.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Thank you for looking at this story, if you enjoy it, yay! If you have feedback, also yay! I have nothing to note here, though, so just enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: We own nothing.**

 **Co-written with Rubblestrength.**

Torch flames burned, lighting up the large war-room with living orange light. The air smelled of smoke, having nothing to do with the torches on the wall. In the distance, black plumes rose from the lower town. Arthur's face was grave as he sat at the round table, meeting the eyes of his trusted knights.

"I've received word that our messenger was killed before he could deliver our request for aid to Godwyn." The young king rubbed both hands over his face, then took a slow breath and continued. "If we cannot get out a message..." he stopped, shaking his head. Gwen-who was sitting beside him-put a gentle hand on his arm.

"Until we can get a message out, we're trapped in the citadel." Mordred's quiet voice said what Arthur had not.

The knights murmured quietly; a few casting glances toward the window. They all knew they couldn't last forever inside the citadel, however well fortified it may be. Camelot was surrounded. They needed aid from outside. Gaius moved to have his arms resting on the table with his hands clasped together. He breathed a quiet sigh through his nose, the sound whistling. "We need to send another."

Arthur nodded. "You're right Gaius." He considered who to send. His mistake last time, had been sending a man out alone, thinking stealth would help the man get past the Saxon army without trouble. Needless to say, his assumption had been wrong. This time, he would send at least one knight with whomever he sent.

From where he stood, Merlin frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. If he went, he could get the message out, but did he want to risk something happening while he was gone? The answer was yes, it was the only answer worth having. "I will go," he spoke, aware of the possibility of being questioned and so continuing, "They wouldn't notice me."

Gwen smiled without showing her teeth and leaned forward, hugging Arthur's nearest arm, "If they see you, Merlin, they will surely kill you."

"They won't see me," the warlock tried for a grin, "Stealth is my middle name."

"I'm sorry but I'm not quite sure that's true..." Gwen winced but the smile stayed in place. Merlin was many things, but bless his heart, stealthy wasn't among them. She didn't want to lose a friend. She looked at her husband, hoping to see some thought sparking behind blue eyes, some better idea.

Arthur was solemn. "Very well, Merlin. I'll send Mordred with you." With that, Arthur turned to Mordred. "You will ensure his safety."

"Yes, Sire," Mordred nodded-the closest thing to a bow he could manage while seated.

Merlin felt a stab in his chest, the thought of it sending shivers down his spine. He couldn't watch his back from Mordred while trying to get past the Saxons. "No - we don't need to endanger anyone else, Sire. If a servant dies it's nothing, it's different when a knight dies."

"You may be right..." A hint of a teasing tone entered his voice, but vanished at his next words. "But no one is going to die. That's the end of it, Merlin."

The manservant let his arms drop to his sides and hid his irritation. It would be easier for him to go alone, not that Arthur knew that, and Merlin was beginning to doubt that he ever would. He dipped his head in acknowledgement and glanced at Mordred. "We'll leave as soon as you've another message for Godwyn, Arthur."

Arthur nodded. "It will be finished before the sun sets. Merlin, prepare the horses. I will leave the letter with Mordred."

Merlin bowed and hurried towards the door, trying to shake the whole idea that he would be spending the next who-knew-how-long with Mordred, the man destined to kill the youngest Pendragon. Well, not just that, but he could risk all of Albion and everything that so many had died and suffered to achieve. Yeah, he was definitely not going to think about *that*. Merlin made his way down the long hallways and winding corridors, taking staircases at impossible speeds. When he finally did arrive outdoors, he headed straight for the stables. He would need to pack his things and say goodbye to Gaius - just in case. With that thought, he decided to go back to the physician's chambers and then prepare the horses afterward.

His trip was a relatively short one, and when he came into his surrogate father's workshop he felt his heart drop to his shoes by the lack of robe and somber eyes inside. Maybe the man would come before he was doing packing - yes, he thought - there was every chance. He jogged up the steps and grabbed his pack from under his bed, pushing off of his hands and knees only to begin shoving clothes inside the bag. When he finished, Gaius was still out and the sun had lowered significantly. He refrained from sighing.

He slung the pack over one of his shoulders and made his way to the castle entrance. Once arrived, he took to the fat stone stairs at a run, his arms jostled by every abrupt and short landing.

Merlin made his way inside the stables and started the process of brushing and tacking the two horses, happy to see that someone had already fed them at least an hour prior, hence the hay almost being gone and reduced mainly to a few bits of green and small piles of sticks. On Mordred's horse he tightened the girth and checked its tightness with one hand before moving to his own animal, and, distracted, he barely managed to keep the pushy horse from shoving her nose against his shoulder.

From outside the stall door, a quiet voice asked, "Do you need any help, Merlin?"

Merlin gasped and turned his head, his hands still tangled in the length of leather bound to the saddle. He quickly closed his mouth and shook his head tersely.

Mordred stood, arms draped over the stall door as he watched Merlin. "Thank you." He let himself in and walked over to his horse, putting the letter from Arthur To Godwyn in his saddle bag, then glancing toward Merlin again. "I know it displeases you that Arthur sent me." He didn't know why-of course-but he wasn't so blind as to believe Merlin liked his company.

As though he hadn't spoken at all, Merlin said, "If we ride through the night we can get past the army while they sleep."

"Agreed." Mordred hid a sigh at Merlin's quick dismissal.

Merlin brought his mare from the stall and into the courtyard, taking a moment to mount and re-position the saddle packs. "If we go around to the moat after the gate, we can avoid the thick of it."

Mordred followed Merlin, swinging onto his horse as well. Mordred only nodded at Merlin's statement. "Godwyn must have heard of Camelot's plight by now... Perhaps he would have sent aid already?" The young knight suspected that was too optimistic to hope.

"I wouldn't hold my breath." Merlin clicked, urging the horse into a trot. They could make it to the gate in a matter of minutes.

Mordred tapped his heels against his horse's sides and passed Merlin, leading the way toward the gates. The gate guards-already having orders to let them through-opened the gates and stepped aside quickly. Outside the castle, the smoke was even thicker, making it difficult to breathe.

Merlin could see torch light as though the forest was on fire. His frown deepened. They might not be able to make it to the moat, but, it was worth a try. As soon as they were out of the guards' line of sight, he whispered a spell under his breath, subtle light beginning to shine near the ground and off to the right. He looked for a break in the path, some way to get to the water. There were fields of green against every side of the castle, dropping down into the moats and then on the other side was the lower town, as well as the surrounding woods - and the Saxons.

Tents were becoming visible in the last light. The Saxons had camped around the moat. Mordred glanced at Merlin. There was little to no chance they would make it through unseen. Fighting may be their only option. "Merlin... We may have to fight our way through." He was certain Merlin knew what that meant.

"Yes," Merlin snipped. He bit his tongue.

Mordred shook his head. What had he done to deserve Merlin's mistrust? He could think of a few things in the past... but all he'd done since coming to Camelot had been to earn Arthur's-and Merlin's-trust.

Merlin slowed his horse down. They might as well just take the bridge, since it seemed there wouldn't be any getting past them anyway. Well, he was in a bad mood, and Mordred also had magic, so at the moment he couldn't imagine it would be too difficult.

Mordred frowned, but also made his way toward the bridge. It would be a fight, then. They had another sixty yards before they reached the bridge, but they hadn't gone that far when they were spotted.

"There! Someone's coming!" A man yelled, voice cracked and uneven from shouting orders. "Archers, fire!"

Mordred sensed the arrows as they sped through the air toward them. He redirected several of them, making them miss by just enough that no one would sense magic had caused it. He looked to Merlin, to ensure he hadn't been wounded. A disbelieving curse was followed up by an archer asking how they'd all missed. It seemed Merlin wasn't hit either, then.

Merlin looked over the army, trying to find the best place to get through. He headed in that direction, Mordred by his side, and raised a hand towards the first wave of archers. His head jerked forward moderately, his eyes flashing gold, "Byre!" A cold wind blasted the men back.

As enemy men stumbled, falling over one another, Merlin and Mordred rode through their ranks. The horses never slowed, plowing down anyone who stood in their way. Mordred drew his sword, blocking as a man with a spear attacked. He deflected the weapon... sending it back into the crowd of soldiers. The spear shaft smacked one of the other soldiers in the face, making the man wielding it turn in surprise.

"Sorry!" the fellow yelled to his companion, turning his attention from the battle.

Mordred would've found it amusing, if not for the dire situation.

Merlin set a man's bow string on fire just as he was about to pull it back. The warrior howled and let it fall to the ground, gripping his burned hand to his stomach as his face twisted in pain. "There," Merlin spoke, seeing there was an opening right to the woods. He urged his horse into a gallop.

Mordred's horse charged after Merlin of its own accord. Looking over his shoulder, Mordred held a hand up. His eyes flashed gold and a blast of power knocked several men back, toppling them onto the next row of men.

The trees of the forest approached quickly. Wind whipped about them as they made their way deeper into the trees and away from the Saxon army. Mordred could hear someone shouting to follow them, but he didn't turn or slow. Instead, he focused on catching up with Merlin.

The young warlock didn't slow for some time, not until they were at least a mile or two into the woods. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Modred and staring as though he wasn't sure what to make of the man. "Have you ever been to Godwyn's kingdom?"

"Yes-but not recently."

"Arthur and I went to attend Princess Elena's wedding a few months back." Merlin straightened in the saddle and moved the reins over the animals neck, altering course to a well trodden path.

"Princess Elena?" Mordred asked, glad at least that Merlin was speaking to him now. He slowed his horse a bit and glanced back to ensure they had lost their pursuers.

"They were meant to marry."

"Elena and Arthur?"

"Yes." Merlin pursed his lips for a moment, his jaw muscles twitching. He would prefer not to spend the next few days in strained silence. "We stop for supper."

Mordred didn't argue. He may be a knight, but Merlin was... Emrys. He wasn't about to argue with the man.

The young servant dismounted in the closest clearing, not even bothering to gather firewood. Instead, he said, "Forbearne," and with it fire leapt from the ground, burning and flaming from what seemed to be nothing. He unpacked what he would need and settled down on his knees, mixing vegetables in the small metal pot he had brought with them. "Tell me,-" he began, peering up for a moment, "-Mordred, why become a knight?"

"I owe Arthur my life. I wish to repay that debt... this is the only way I know how." Mordred dismounted, untacked his horse, and glanced over his shoulder at Merlin.

Merlin seemed to contemplate this. "He is the son of Uther - he still holds magic with distrust. Why risk it?"

"The same reason you do; I believe in the future Arthur can create... That one day, Arthur will permit magic to be practiced in Camelot again."

Merlin gave no response for the time. He struggled to find what it was that the seers always saw in Mordred - he had seen it, when the knight was a child - the thought of it made the hairs on his arms raise - but ever since then, nothing. All he had were the prophecies to go off of. He began cooking the soup and stood up, following suit in untacking his own horse.

"Besides-I do not want to become like Morgana... She was so kind once." His eyes grew distant. "Her hatred destroys everyone-including herself."

"Yes, it has."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for the follows and what have you. :)**

The sun was rising above the trees, golden light flooding over the lands. Merlin's very bones felt sore from riding through the night, but, he told himself, it would be worth it to get the Godwyn's kingdom sooner rather than later, he would be happy to get back to his normal duties. Well, happy was debatable, no sane man could be truly content washing Arthur's socks. He wrinkled his nose at the mere memory of them and then rubbed the top of his hand against his nose, his fingers curled around the edge of his jacket sleeve. The warlock sniffed and then sat up in the saddle, putting his free hand against the small of his back and making a pained face as he stretched. His muscles were on fire. A small sound came from deep in his throat, not unlike a whistling kettle.

Mordred glanced over at Merlin. "Are you all right?"

"I'm _sore_ ," Merlin complained, having grown accustomed to the knight's constant presence over the course of several hours. He grunted out a sigh and dropped his hand back onto the horse's neck, grabbing the rein that he had let go of previously.

"Getting old?" Mordred asked, his tone almost hiding the fact he was teasing.

"I was moving to Camelot when you were still toddling around the Druids' home." Merlin let out a coughing gasp, twisting in the saddle and pushing his rear from the seat to alleviate some of the tingling discomfort.

Mordred was almost shocked by the response. He smiled-just slightly. "An admittance that it is age then, Emrys?"

Merlin rubbed his aching shoulder. "They say things get better with age."

"Do they?"

"I do." Merlin tried for a grin, only to realize the knight wasn't Arthur, it wasn't his usual banter and he was... fraternizing. The warlock sobered. He yawned, covered it with a fist, and then tried to wake himself up by taking a drink of water from his canteen. "We have to pass through a corner of Cenrid's land. It's the fastest way."

Mordred nodded. "Then we'll have to be careful."

Merlin continued down the same trail they had been on for the past who-knew-how-long. At least, until something went off in his mind like Camelot's warning bell. His chest felt as though it had stiffened inside, leaving him suspicious. His first thought was that it had to do with Mordred, and so, he glanced back at his traveling companion, but the feeling didn't worsen. Something else was going on. "Something's wrong." He frowned and stopped his horse, listening to the sound of birds singing in the trees.

"I sense it too." Mordred turned back, looking toward the trees. The birds began to go silent one at a time, until the forest was utterly still.

Merlin nimbly swung off his horse and bit back a hiss of pain, his knees threatening to collapse. Wearing a hard expression he searched the area with his eyes, and not just that, he reached out with his magic, seeing flashes of grey-tinted trees and plants. His eyes glowed continuously as he looked. He saw images of men wearing black from head-to-toe, creeping up on where they now stood. Surprise rattled his bones. Merlin sucked in a breath through his mouth and took a half step back as though he had been physically slammed back into his own body.

"Is it the Saxons? Have they followed us?" Mordred's hand strayed to his sword, waiting for Merlin to confirm or deny.

"I don't know."

The next instant, a small flame flew toward them. It wasn't magical, or Mordred would have sensed it. Whatever it was landed yards away from them. Everything was silent for a moment... then the device exploded. Dirt showered down on them. Mordred's horse shied away from the noise, leaping sideways and bolting. The knight was flung from the saddle, landing hard on the ground. His ears still rang even as he pulled his feet under himself and slowly stood.

Merlin felt his shoulder slam against a tree, the blast having shoved him several feet sideways. He cried out in shock more than pain and scrambled back onto his feet, holding a hand out in front of himself in defense. He squinted his eyes, everything looking unusually dark and blurry. Figures were rushing from every direction. "Swengan! Tófléon!" He shouted, magic like warmth in his fingers.

Another of the flaming spheres flew toward them. Mordred redirected it; using magic to hurl it back at their attackers. It exploded midair, but at least one of the men cried out.

Several of the men were dragged apart by Merlin's spells, as though some invisible giant pulled them away from each other. Some of them disappeared into the trees, screaming.

Still more poured from the forest. They kept coming, undeterred by magic.

"They're not Saxons!" Mordred called to Merlin. The men carried no flags. Their armor and clothes bore no crest. Nor were they concerned over the use of magic...

Merlin turned, looking at Mordred for only a second before something seemed to dawn on him. "Where is the letter?" He shouted. Someone grabbed his arm, stealing his attention away. He threw a punch, one that missed by several inches and was caught by his opponent. He was twisted around, discomfort swelling in the bent limb. His eyes shone gold and he nodded his head over his shoulder and then towards the other men, in response sending the attacker flying over Merlin and into a group of his friends. "Burn it!" If it got into these people's hands, they may take advantage of Camelot's weakness. It was something they couldn't risk.

Mordred's eyes widened. It was still in the saddlebag. His horse was-he looked around-nowhere to be seen. The letter was with the horse. Rather than telling Merlin where it was-and alerting all the men to what exactly he had, he simply called back, "I don't have it!"

Mordred ducked a sword, then moved forward, slashing his own at his attacker. The metal met flesh, and his opponent cried out, falling to the ground in a jumble of limbs. The man didn't rise again.

Merlin picked up a weapon from one of the bodies, that being a cutlass, just in time to block a blade aimed at his throat. Yelling out an incantation, he threw the cloaked figure across the clearing. He reached out with his mind, having to look at Mordred to focus on 'speaking'.

 _Where is it?_

 _With the horses..._ Mordred answered back grimly. _At least it's out of their hands,_ he added. The horse would likely go back to Camelot.

Merlin was going to answer when something struck the back of his skull, sending him to his hands and knees. "Ow," he breathed, his face pinched in pain. He interlaced his fingers through his hair until he found familiar oozing blood. "...ædre." Whoever was behind him began choking, spitting out mouthfuls of water onto the grass beside Merlin's hand. He hissed and curled in on himself for a moment before he stood up, wobbling dangerously.

Mordred-momentarily distracted by Merlin's plight-having turned from his attackers, took a club to the ribs. He grunted and pitched forward, landing in the grass. He rolled over, narrowly avoiding a spear to the back. How many were there, hiding in the woods?

A woman stepped out between Merlin and Mordred, wearing a tattered black dress with a cape trailing behind. The young warlock felt his mouth go dry as she turned to look at him, a hateful smile marring her beautiful face. "Morgana." He tried to ignore the dizzy spell the injury had given him and meet her green eyes, "I should have known."

"Merlin," Morgana sneered, but then turned her attention to Mordred, "You're working with him, Mordred? You could be so much more than this, reduced to snapping at whatever table crumbs Arthur throws your way."

Mordred kept his relief inward. It seemed the woman believed _him_ responsible for the magic she'd seen. "Arthur has a good heart, Morgana... as you once did."

"A good heart," Morgana scoffed, a twisted smile becoming her expression, "a good heart does not persecute the innocent."

Merlin took a step forward. "He shows compassion, he is a good ruler. Unlike you."

She turned, her hand extending towards him and her fingers curling into a ball. A tightness grew in the man's body, as though someone tied him in chains. He moved his chin up but didn't break eye contact, refusing to look away even as the pressure grew. "I feel... sorry for you, Morgana." He swallowed noisily, dropping to his knees as the invisible ropes took away his balance.

"Don't feel sorry for me, feel sorry for _yourself._ For what will happen to you now." She looked over at Mordred, "If you only join me, you won't suffer the same fate as he." Morgana stared at him intently, all but holding her breath as she waited for an answer - although she already knew the one he would give.

Mordred's eyes glowed gold, and he held up a hand toward Morgana, pushing her back. He knew it would do little, but it would distract her from her attack on Merlin. "I hope one day, you understand... I don't want to be your enemy-nor Arthurs."

Livid, Morgana regained her footing and released her hold on Merlin, instead redirecting it to the young knight. "If you don't stand against Arthur, you stand against me."

"I stand against no one..." He felt her magic hit him like a battering ram, and sank to his knees. "...I stand against cruelty." He gritted his teeth, and his eyes darted toward Merlin.

 _Run. While she is distracted... go!_

Merlin pushed himself to his feet, looking at the scene before him. He was tempted, especially with all of Camelot at stake, but there was a good chance that Morgana was behind the whole attack - he couldn't just leave. He weighed his options and started for the tree line, only stopped by the return of the crushing weight. Well, that made his decision easier at least. He gritted his teeth as Morgana spoke,

"Does Arthur let you run from battle like a coward, Merlin?" Morgana seethed, "Or do you usually hide your cowardice until you want to poison your friends?"

Merlin didn't bother replying.

"What do we do with them, My Lady?" A man in black asked Morgana, bowing as he approached her.

"Bring the cage. Let them feel trapped, like animals. We set out for Cenrid's kingdom. I have a friend who would pay a hefty sum for both of them," she paused, smirking, "but I think I'll turn down his offer. Seeing them _suffer_ will be payment enough."


	3. Chapter 3

The sun had long-since disappeared behind black clouds. Rain poured from the sky, adding further gloom to the situation. Inside the horse-drawn cage, Mordred sat across from Merlin. He'd tried-more than once-to unlock their prison with magic. He had been unsuccessful, and figured Morgana had likely enchanted the lock. Merlin could likely counteract whatever she'd done, but both of them knew better than to let Morgana see Merlin use magic...

Merlin had moved himself to the opposite side of the cage, staring out at Morgana and wondering just how much of this was going to be his fault in the end. He thudded his head back against one of the bars, metal connecting with the back of his already bruised skull. As soon as he could, he would undo the enchantment.

"At least we're headed in the right direction," Mordred stated softly. "If we can escape, we'll be closer to our goal."

 _When the horses return with the letter, Arthur will think us dead. He wouldn't risk sending someone else - he would go. He could die._ Merlin spoke in the druid's mind, unease settling in the pit of his stomach.

 _Who's to say what will happen?_ He didn't know how else to respond. Merlin was right. Arthur would try to leave the city-even if he knew how it would go for him. But perhaps they could get away first. Or perhaps the horses would be unwilling to go back through battle to get to Camelot. That was probable. It would give them a while longer, at very least.

Merlin let his arms hang over his bent knees and frowned at his hands.

"We'll be there within the hour Lady Morgana." The voice was gruff and grinding. Merlin peered outside the cell, letting his mind wander - he suddenly moved forward, going to sit beside Mordred in what seemed to be an uncharacteristic motion. _Distract her._

Mordred's eyes met Merlin's for a moment. He frowned in puzzlement, but did as he was told. The knight raised a hand through the bars, and whispered quietly in the Druid tongue. His eyes flashed gold and the nearest guard went soaring toward Morgana. The man-far heavier than she-slammed against her with a loud "Sorry My Lady!" and tried to scramble off her.

Morgana fumed, shoving the man off her and struggling to stand up. She was covered in mud. She turned her wild gaze toward Mordred.

He didn't wait for her to speak, but sent another wave of magic toward her. She blocked it, but she was distracted-certainly.

Merlin crouch-ran to the lock and put his hand over it, "Tospringe." The enchantment bit back, keeping the lock from moving in the slightest. He frowned and re-positioned himself, trying again, "Unlúcan!"

Mordred-for his part-was doing his best to keep Morgana's attention on him. It was easier said than done. A moment's distraction was enough to have him tumbling backward. He was slammed into Merlin with enough force to knock the wind out of him. "Sorry, Merlin." He moved away again.

The warlock regained his balance and repeated, "Unlúcan!" This time, something popped. The enchantment weakened.

 _Is it working?_

"AAHHHG!" Two of Morgana's men were pulled together, their skulls meeting with a satisfying "Thunk."

Merlin didn't answer until the enchantment was entirely gone. He rushed back to the other side of the cage, if Morgana saw him near the lock she would check her spell to make sure it was still in place out of habit. _Okay,_ Merlin said, as though that was cue enough.

Mordred nodded, but continued his "distraction," to ensure that there would be no suspicion on Merlin.

"Enough!" Morgana yelled, her eyes flashing gold as she shoved Mordred with her magic. She would be glad to rid herself of them.

Mordred slammed against the metal bars and sank to the cage floor with a quiet groan. He raised his eyes to look at her-sure that she must see the betrayal there. He had once seen her as family. Not that it mattered now... she had chosen her side, and he had chosen his.

Angry, the witch moved just out of their line of sight and quietly discussed with one of the guards when they would arrive at the slave trader's. Merlin, though his expression and body language was guarded, said, "She's not the same woman any of us loved."

"No, she isn't," Mordred agreed quietly, pushing himself off the floor. His expression was pinched with pain, but he said nothing of it. 'The door is unlocked?'

"Yes."

Mordred sat, not thinking to get up just yet. 'We try to escape at nightfall?'

Merlin glanced over and nodded once, sharply, before exhaling a long breath.

"If you see a chance to escape tonight... no matter what, you have to go. Arthur and Godwyn will need to know Morgana is behind the attack."

Merlin sat in quiet thought for several moments. He met Mordred's eyes. "That goes for either of us. Camelot is more important."

Mordred's lips drew in a flat line. "I could not leave you."

The young warlock felt his gut twist a little more than it had already been tied - some days he wondered if he was still alive, or if his heart was dead. Merlin shook off those thoughts and tried to replace them with knowledge and with logic. "This is about Camelot - about Arthur. You must repay him your debt."

"And what of your destiny? How would you protect Arthur if..." he left the sentence hang. They both knew Morgana had no love for Merlin, and would kill him.

"If neither of us return," Merlin argued, "there will be no one to protect!" He took a look outside to make sure Morgana hadn't begun listening to their conversation, and it didn't seem that she had. He turned his attention back.

Mordred said nothing. "He needs you-even if he doesn't know it."

"Why are you doing this?" Merlin had asked him that before, and Mordred had asked Merlin - it seemed to be the perfect question between them.

Mordred's expression didn't show that he was enlightened. "I... don't understand."

"Neither do I, Mordred." Merlin didn't hide a sigh. It would be easier to feel numb.

"Why haven't we started?" Morgana's voice broke through their conversation. "I never ordered you to stop!"

"But... We were, I mean..." The man who'd been driving waved his hands in the air, trying to encompass all that had recently occurred.

"Just drive," Morgana spat, turning away and walking toward her horse. She mounted and waited for the driver to urge the horses to a trot before riding forward as well.


End file.
